Blood, Thou Art Blood
by JBHart
Summary: (Set six years after 'What Makes a Man' in the same A/U) After suffering a grave injury during a fierce Modoc ambush, 19-year-old Cavalryman Heath Barkley returns to the ranch, not only to heal, but to strengthen fragile bonds with the family he believes he deserted.
1. Chapter 1

**A**s the train's momentum began to ebb, Heath Thomson Barkley awoke. Having no passengers next to him on this leg of the trip, he had propped his feet up on the seat facing him and drifted off. The murmurs of passengers and their movement as they gathered their belongings had him withdrawing his feet and stretching. He sat up and looked out his window through a billowing cloud of steam and saw the platform slowly come into view. Still groggy, he rubbed his face and smoothed his mustache as he searched for his brother Nick among the teeming crowd at the station.

_Back in Stockton._ He had been away for nearly two years.

Adopted at age fourteen, his first years with his father and his new family had been tough. Never quite fitting in, neither at home or in their social circles, Heath had rebelled. He hadn't wanted to belong and he'd done his best to make them turn him away, but the Barkley's were a tenacious lot. They had held fast. Instead of turning their backs on him, they had loved him. Even from the beginning, Heath understood that his reluctance to fit in and his constant battles at home and in the community only made life harder for everyone. Joining the army had been a compromise, a way to make amends to the family who had done their best to welcome a troubled son.

Coming home, seeing the familiar buildings of Stockton and its people brought him a strange mixture of regret and hope. They would take him back, but would they want him?

Heath stood a little stiffly at first. His right leg gave him the most trouble. He had not been on a horse in four months and the doctors could not tell him if he would ever ride again. One thing Heath knew for certain, the cavalry could not use him anymore.

In a protracted exchange of letters during Heath's recovery, Nick had barraged him with reasons why he needed to come home. Along with the family news, the letters were filled with long passages of assurances and promises of viable work at the ranch. "We could damned sure use you, Heath," was Nick's message. "We need you here."

Heath grabbed up his satchel and moved slowly down the aisle to disembark from the car. He scanned the crowd as he descended the narrow steps to the platform. The thick blanket of steam had dissipated, but the caustic odor of burning coal lingered heavily in the air. As dirty as it seemed, this was home.

He heard his name shouted across the depot.

"Heath!"

He looked over the heads of passersby for the tall black Stetson his brother preferred. He saw Nick's hand pop out over the heads of the mingling mass.

"Heath! You son of a gun!" A smiling Nick broke through the crowd, and latching onto Heath, he grabbed him in a fierce bear hug.

By the way his rancher brother slapped Heath's back, he thought Nick might just beat the wind right out of him.

"Good to see you Nick."

"You finally came home, huh?" Nick stepped back a bit, but gripped Heath's shoulder as if he might lose him if he let go completely. "Your hair's longer. By God I even believe you're taller and that mustache-the family will hardly know ya."

Relieved that his brother didn't mention the weight loss he hoped the uniform would conceal, Heath deflected further scrutiny of his appearance. "Where's Father?"

"I didn't tell him you were coming." Nick noticed Heath's haversack. "Is that the only bag you've got?"

"Don't need any others." Heath slung the bag over his shoulder. "Why didn't you tell him, huh? I thought the old man would be here."

"It's his birthday, Heath. Can you believe he'll be fifty-six tomorrow?" Nick talked as he ushered Heath through the thick mass of people on the platform. "I wanted you to be a surprise. He'll kill me for not saying anything, but just seeing the look on his face will be worth it."

As they moved through the bustling station they passed a group of well-dressed young ladies who bashfully smiled as they walked past.

Nick doffed his hat. "Ladies." They blushed and giggled at Nick's notice but their eyes were on Heath. Heath smiled at them but unlike his brother resisted the temptation to watch them walk by. Nick put his hat back on. "Ah, must be the uniform. They're lovely ladies, truly, but they're all for you, brother. Soon I will be a married man."

Heath had assumed he'd grown beyond the capability of feeling shock, but this news hit him like a cannon ball. In all the letters they'd exchanged over the last few months, Nick had never said a word about engagement or even the fact that he had a special girl in his life. "What?" he blurted. "When did this happen?"

"Last night, as a matter of fact. I spoke to her father and he consented."

Heath hauled back and punched Nick's arm. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

Nick rubbed his arm and laughed. "I wasn't sure the deal would go through."

"It's not a business arrangement, you idiot!" Heath nearly shouted, but then he too laughed and shook his head. "Who is she? Do I know her?"

"Don't think so. Her family's new to Stockton. They moved here all the way from Virginia to make a go at ranching. I'm sure glad they did. I've never met a girl quite like my Anabelle."

Heath had seen his brother in love many times, but not like this. Nick seemed content. "Boy howdy, Nick. I'm happy for you."

"Tomorrow, I'm going to officially ask her to marry me. I have the ring and everything," Nick said. "Then, when she says yes, I'll bring her and her family to the house and we'll make the formal announcement at Father's birthday dinner." Nick shoved his hands in his pockets and said wistfully, "She's the one, Heath. This time, I know-she loves me and she loves ranching."

"Smart girl," said Heath.

"She is."

"And tolerant too, if she's letting my brother court her."

Nick chuckled. "Thank God she is that."

The crowd thinned out as the brothers left the station. Nick's head dipped down in thought and his voice sounded a little uneasy now that things were quieter around them. "So, how have you been, Heath? We were worried, you know."

"I'm alright." Heath shrugged. "Feelin' better everyday."

"You sure? I mean..."

"I've put it behind me, Nick. I'm a soldier. I move on."

"If you're ever in trouble, I want to be there for you, understand? The not knowing was-awful, and then we finally got Major Bentell's letter, which wasn't exactly forthcoming. He should have told us how bad it was," Nick's voice rose. "Hell, your name wasn't even on the casualties list. He had a responsibility to-"

Heath cut him off. "It's over, Nick. I was a few weeks in the hospital. I only stayed with the Bentells because they offered their home to me. It was my decision to keep my name out of the papers-"

"Why?" Nick demanded. "We had a right to know."

"I feel fine, trust me, and by all means, trust the US Army. We are brothers in arms."

Nick stopped walking and abruptly turned to face him. Anger showed plainly on his face. "_I'm_ your brother," he said. "You ought to remember that. Blood is blood. We're family. How many times will I have to tell you that before it finally sinks in?" Nick's eyes revealed plainly his hurt and disappointment in Heath's obvious lack of confidence in his family. They had been brothers since they met years ago in Strawberry. His relationship with Nick had been one bond that held. Why did he still feel the need to hold back?

Heath wanted to apologize, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He would just do as he always had. He would wait for the discomfort between them to pass. Nick would soon drop it, and they could carry on as if there was no barrier between them.

Nick sulked and said no more until they came to the hotel. "It's late. I'll get us a couple of rooms."

Heath remained outside. He leaned his shoulder against a post and dug into his pockets for a cigarette. A rapid series of loud pops had him ducking and latching onto the post in a death grip. But laughter rang out and he saw the source of the commotion. Three young boys had set off a handful of fireworks.

He straightened and his heart raced like a rabbit's. With trembling fingers, he reached into his tunic pocket and withdrew the cigarette tin. His nerves were shot. Sudden loud noises, sudden movement still put him over the edge. It was a lingering side effect of battle. Logically, he understood what was happening to him, but even so, the fear was just as real, just as palpable today as it had been three months ago when his regiment was ambushed. Time, the doctors told him. In time this miasma, this fear, would pass. He would just have to bear it until it did.

He straightened and pulled a cigarette from a metal tin. He flipped the box closed and searched for a match. Patting his pockets, he came up empty. An uneasy breath escaped him as panic began to take over. _Not now._

"Need a light, soldier?"

The speaker was a man of about forty years accompanied by a petite woman who looked at him through soft, sympathetic eyes.

Heath nodded and the man lit his cigarette. Heath took in the first calming drag of tobacco. "Thank you, sir."

"Cavalry," the man said.

"Yes sir. Fourth," Heath replied without thinking.

"Oh," the man replied, seeming to understand instantly what the number stood for. The Modoc uprising had filled the newspapers, the tragedy at Tule Lake had shocked and enraged many. "You were there?" he asked.

Heath felt his jaw tighten and did not reply for fear he would snap. He slowly turned his gaze toward the street.

"Frank," his wife said quietly. "Let's leave him be."

The man solemnly took her cue and they moved off down the boardwalk together.

Heath took another drag of the tobacco and let it settle in his lungs for a moment then slowly released the smoke. The stress and discomfort did not ease with the introduction of nicotine into his system. The encounter with a stranger who knew of what he'd been through greatly unsettled him. His presence in Stockton was already causing discomfort and not just in him. Why had he come home? How could a returning bastard son who was afraid of his own shadow bring anything but hardship to the Barkleys?

Nick came back outside and not knowing Heath's mood, slapped him on the shoulder. Heath clamped down on the precious cigarette and raised a brow as he removed it from his mouth and shot his brother an annoyed look.

"We have two rooms," Nick told him. "Come on. You can go upstairs and get changed, and then we'll go get something to eat. Looks like you could use a good meal...or two."

So nothing escaped his brother's notice. Heath had thinned out since his ordeal and had yet to regain a healthy weight, though it wasn't from lack of trying. At Nick's silent insistence, a firm hand pressed between his shoulder blades, Heath entered the hotel.


	2. Chapter 2

After a few brief minutes of settling into the hotel rooms, Heath and Nick crossed the street to the Cattlemens to get a bite of supper. There were a few late night diners and quiet conversation dotted the atmosphere. The scent of broiled steaks set Heath's mouth to watering the moment he entered the place and when a hot, steaming plate was set down in front of him, he sent up a fervent prayer of thanks. In all of his months in recovery with the Bentells he hadn't so much as seen one slice of meat. The Bentells followed a strict vegetarian diet as the killing of animals upset Cinda's religious beliefs. She felt that all of God's creatures should live life to their fullest extent. She was a sweet and caring woman, but try as she might she had not been able to pass her convictions onto her captive patient. With relish, Heath cut into the first steak set in front of him in five months.

Nick grinned as he sat across from his brother, a fork in one hand and a knife in the other, getting a kick out of watching Heath dig in. "Didn't they feed you in that place?" he asked.

"Sure," Heath said around a mouthful of steak. "Eggplant, squash, beets. . . ."

"No meat?" Nick let out a huge laugh. "No wonder you're so thin! Eat. We'll have you fattened up in no time." He started to cut into his steak.

"Don't need fattening up," remarked Heath. "I just need pointing in the right direction."

Nick looked over at him sharply. "What do you mean? This is where you belong, Heath. You came home for a reason. Maybe you just don't know what it is yet. I do."

"You know so much. If everybody'd only follow you, why everything would be as right as rain."

"True," Nick said lightheartedly, but he meant it. It was good to have Heath back, even if only for a little while. He would do his damnedest to get him to stay. He hoped he had enough time to convince him that this was where he needed to be. He decided for now to change the subject. "Have I told you about my Anabelle?"

"That she's the only girl in the world?" Heath replied with a smile and a shake of his head. "Yep, you told me."

"I can't wait for you to meet her." Nick popped a bite of steak into his mouth. "She has a sister."

Heath threw down his fork and glared at him.

Nick shrugged. "Something you didn't know yet."

"I just got here, Nick. I haven't even seen Father yet. One thing at a time." He picked up his fork again. "Besides, don't you have enough to worry about? You haven't proposed yet. Supposing she says no?"

"She won't." Nick frowned. "She won't," he said again to convince himself. He shot Heath an angry look. "Boy, you sure know how to end a conversation. I'm a happy man," he argued. "Let me be happy for God's sake!"

Heath said nothing more, but Nick could sense by the way his brother half-heartedly continued his meal that he was somewhat remorseful for casting doubt on his relationship. Heath would never admit it though. Nick fumed over their failed conversation and grumbling, he cut into his steak.

He had only eaten a few bites when he heard men's voices. More patron's coming in, which he would have ignored had he not noticed Heath straighten and lay down his fork. Nick looked over at him and then turned around to follow his icy gaze. Henry Planchett, who was wearing a sharp business suit, and two of his cronies had just entered the establishment. He caught Nick's eye and sauntered over. Nick turned to Heath. "Just when I thought I might actually enjoy my dinner."

"Nick Barkley and Heath- Well, well, well!" Planchett propped his fists on his hips revealing his gun belt. "Thought you was in the army, Heath. Indian fighter. We were all impressed."

Heath leaned casually against the back of his chair and said nothing. Conversations inside the restaurant ceased and the place became deadly quiet.

"You're causing a scene, Planchett," said Nick. "Why don't you and your friends pull up some chairs and we can have a decent conversation?"

"Not here for conversation, Nick. We came in to have a bite to eat. Late meeting, you know." He spoke to the whole room. "We need to know where the Barkley's stand and your daddy hasn't spoken. Why isn't he here so I can ask him?"

Nick stood and stared him down. "Whether or not he sells to the railroad is his business and his business alone. Now why don't you and your fellows go sit down before I forget my manners and throw you into the street where you belong?"

"Well now Barkley, I'd like to see you try."

Nick pushed up his sleeves. "Gladly."

"Settle down Nick," said Heath. "Planchett is leaving."

Planchett turned his attention to Heath and smiled. "Now Heath, it's well-known that you've been out of the family business for some time. It's best you stay clear of it now. Lest you get hurt."

Heath said nothing and just watched him coolly.

Nick looked back at his brother and noticed his right hand beneath the table resting by his gun. His mouth kicked up in a smile. "Get out of here Planchett," he warned. "Before this room is too small for the five of us."

Planchett must have seen Heath's posture too, and he wasn't ready to meet him in a gunfight. He lifted his hands and showed his palms.

"Sure thing, Nick. We don't want a fight. As I said, we're just looking for a meal." He eyed Heath again. "Guess it won't be at the Cattlemens. You just tell your daddy that we're waiting on his decision. He knows where we stand." He turned to his men. "Let's go."

Nick's heart raced and he planted his hands on his hips as he guardedly watched Planchett and his henchmen leave. With the threat of violence averted, the rest of the patrons returned to their meals. Nick threw down the napkin he'd just now realized he held in a tightly clenched fist and pushed a hand through his hair.

"Sit down Nick," Heath told him. "Planchett has a burr under his saddle, but deep down he's just a coward like the rest of 'em." Heath returned to his meal, though judging by the frown he wore, he didn't appear to be enjoying it.

After another moment, Nick sat again, but he'd lost his appetite. "The railroad has been riling folks up around here. Planchett himself has been spreading his own brand of lies in the papers for weeks. You should read the trash they've been printing about Father. It's outrageous. It's getting so it's not safe for a Barkley to be in town anymore."

"What is Father's decision?" Heath asked. "Is he going to sell? It's a house of cards, you know. Take out a card, you run the risk of the whole structure collapsing."

"Hell, Father's the foundation." Nick shoved his plate away and dug a cigar from his vest pocket. "I don't know. He hasn't said a word to me, though it's not as if I haven't tried to wring it out of him." Nick lit the cigar and took a puff, then leaned back causing his chair to creak. "Anyway, Jarrod will be home tomorrow. I'm sure that the three of us can corner him after the barbeque. Have a little discussion that is long overdue."

"The old man holds all the cards," Heath said. "He was always in the most powerful position. A great man."

Nick detected the sarcasm. "He is a great man, Heath. But he's just a man. He's vulnerable. We still have to support him." Nick watched Heath carefully, but his brother only glanced at him, saying nothing. This always riled Nick and was one of the flaws in Heath that irked him the most. "Boy, why don't you come out and say how you feel? You never liked the old man did you? It's the reason you left in the first place and the reason you were so reluctant to come back."

"He's my father, Nick," said Heath. "I can't change that."

"If you'd grown up knowing him, you'd see him differently." Nick's voice grew solemn and reflective. "It's a damned shame you can't know him for who he really is."

"Let's not go into that again," Heath stated flatly. "I want to enjoy my dinner if possible."

Nick understood the veiled threat beneath his tone. They'd come to blows many times after such an innocuous exchange of words. Always started off quiet and then-pow! Fists would fly, and all over nothing. After the confrontation with Planchett, this was a pattern he couldn't afford to follow tonight. He needed Heath on his side. He held up his cigar and took a puff. "By all means, enjoy."

* * *

After their meal, they left Cattlemens quietly. Heath was in one of the dark moods Nick had become so accustomed to in the year before his brother joined the army. Whatever happened to that confident kid he met years ago? Somehow, bringing him into the family had damaged him. Heath hadn't been able to keep up and had tried too hard to fit into a family that was already established. It never really worked out for him. Through it all, Nick had grown to accept one tough lesson in his life and it was this: a damaged relationship was a hell of a thing to fix. Impossible really.

"Probably should head back to the hotel. Get a good night's sleep," he suggested.

"Yeah," Heath replied. "Good idea." He spotted a youth crossing the street with a bundle in his arms.

"Tomorrow's papers," Heath said. "Think I'll get an early edition. Be right back."

"Get two."

Heath quickly crossed the street and stopped the boy.

Just as Nick saw Heath pull out his wallet, a passerby rammed into his shoulder. "Watch it!" Nick said.

The man grabbed him fiercely by the arm. "Nick Barkley," the man said jerking him around to face him. "We got a message for your father."

Nick glanced down at the hand on his arm. His anger flared. "I've got a message for you!" Nick said as he reached for his gun.

Suddenly, the man twisted and Nick felt the cold blade of a knife slice through him. Stunned, Nick fell into his attacker. "Sell," the man ordered. "You got that?"

Hot blood trailed down Nick's side and panic had him latching onto the man. "You won't get away." He turned his head to his brother who had looked up from his dealings with the paperboy. "Heath!" Nick yelled. His attacker tugged free and the knife fell from his grasp, clattering to the boardwalk. Nick withdrew his gun. A woman screamed and men began to turn to crowd the scene. As Nick fell, he watched the man escape through the gathering clutch of townsfolk. He could not get a clear shot without injuring someone else. "Stop him!" He wanted to shout, but he was too breathless.

Heath was at his side. "You hold still, Nick," he ordered.

Nick threw an arm out and pushed at him. "I'm alright. Get him, Heath! Catch him before he gets away!"

A look of grim determination came over Heath's face and with a nod, he took off through the crowd.

Nick held his side as he collapsed to the boardwalk. The free flow of blood soaked through his shirt and slicked his palm. A crowd of people gathered around him. "Damn rotten luck," he said to no one in particular. He thought he heard someone yell for the doctor, but he couldn't process the commotion around him. Someone told him he would be alright, but the world seemed to spiral away from him. He lay back down on the sidewalk. Tomorrow was his father's birthday, and he had a girl to propose to. He thought of Anabelle. He would die before getting a chance to make her a proper widow. "Don't that beat all," he said as his world faded to black.

* * *

He awoke some time later and at first figured he had one hell of a hangover. He tried to sit up, but a hand on his chest stopped him.

"Rest up, Nick," Dr. Merar said. "You've lost some blood. You get up now and you'll end up on the floor."

Nick felt the soreness at his side and remembered. "I was stabbed. Who?"

"Heath caught up to him. The man's lucky the sheriff pulled your brother off, or else he'd be a corpse right now."

"Where's Heath?"

"He's outside in the waiting room," Merar said. "I'd better let him see you. He doesn't believe me when I tell him you'll be alright. Maybe he'll believe it if it came from you."

"Will I be alright, Doc?" Nick asked. He didn't feel alright. He felt like he'd been pushed under a stampede of wild horses.

"You will recover if you follow my instructions. I want you to get out of this town. Go directly home. And I want you on complete bed rest for at least a week. The wound is deep. You're lucky the knife didn't slice a kidney."

"But I have to propose marriage tomorrow."

"Put it off," Merar said. "She'll wait."

"I can't."

"Unless you propose from your bed, you'll have to put it off," Merar said, but he softened. "Nick, I know Anabelle. She will wait for you."

"But I have her ring."

Merar laughed and patted his shoulder. "Ah, my boy, be thankful you can prolong it. Love is but a brief moment in time. Marriage is forever."

Nick stared at the doctor's back as he went to get Heath. He defiantly lifted his head and bellowed, "Love is forever, Doctor!" He instantly regretted yelling as the pain lit anew in his side. He eased back into his pillow.

Heath entered quietly and shut the door behind him. "Hey Nick," he said with a short wave of a bandaged hand.

"What happened to your hand?" Nick asked.

"Nothin'," Heath said. "I caught up to that fellow who attacked you. I was a boxer in the army you know. Used his face as a punching bag. Wasn't a bad workout. How do ya feel?"

"Like hell. Who was he? I've never seen him before."

"Don't know. He's in jail and he aint talkin', at least for a while. I coulda killed him, Nick."

"Madden stopped you?"

"His deputies did."

Nick laughed, but stopped and grimaced. "Aw, what a night."

"Sheriff said he would come by the house tomorrow and talk to you. He knows what happened. He knows you need to be home. That's where I'm takin' ya. Home. Tonight."

"To my place?" Nick prompted.

Heath shook his head. "To the ranch. You need someone to take care of you. Besides, Mother would have my hide if I didn't take you directly to her."

"You're right. Can't say we didn't surprise the old man on his birthday, huh?"

"Boy howdy, that's an understatement." Heath stood again. He seemed restless. "I'll go get a buggy."

Hat in hand, Heath turned to leave.

"Be careful out there," Nick said. "This town is a hazard . . . for us Barkleys."

Heath nodded and left the room.

Nick tried to rest, but his mind raced. Even if Father was tempted to sell off a part of the ranch to the railroad, surely this attack would cause him to stand firm with the other families. The die was cast. More blood would be spilled. It was only a matter of time.

[/size]


	3. Chapter 3

Heath drove the carriage over the crest of the last small hill on the road to the house. At this late hour, few house lights could be seen, but the light of a full moon showed the mansion and its columns in all of it's grandeur, not a shadow could diminish the house Tom Barkley built.

The land was a quiet cathedral. Only the steady clomp of the horse's hooves and the crunch of the gravel beneath the carriage wheels disturbed the solemnity of the night.

As they approached the gate to the curving front drive, Heath shot a glance over his shoulder at Nick, who lay with one leg stretched across the bench seat, his torso hunched to favor his injured side. This usually garrulous brother had said hardly a word since they left Stockton.

"We're here, Nick. You still doing alright?"

Nick groaned before offering his answer with a succinct and hardly convincing, "Yeah."

Sounded painful. Heath grabbed the bag Dr. Merar had given him which contained Nick's pain medication, but as he moved to climb down, he realized his right leg had gone stiff again. He paused and kneaded his thigh as best he could, impeded as he was with two busted and bandaged fingers. "Damn," he muttered.

"What's the matter?" Nick asked. He hadn't moved from his position in the back, but his concern for Heath brought strength to his voice.

"My leg stiffens up if I've been sitting too long," Heath told him. "Give me a minute."

"Trust me, I'm not going anywhere," Nick replied, letting out a small groan as he shifted in the seat.

Heath stepped down, gingerly working through the soreness in his weakened leg. The pain he now experienced was due to the running and the fighting he had gotten himself into tonight. His balance was a little off, and he struggled to open the carriage door.

Nick looked at him wryly. "Aren't we a pair?"

"Some things never change."

Voices came from the inside of the house and the front door opened. Tom stood in the doorway holding a lantern in one hand, his other hand was hidden behind the door frame. "Who's out here in the dead of night?" he demanded.

Heath wondered briefly if the old man held a gun. He didn't want to find out the hard way. "It's me, Father. Heath."

"Heath?" Tom shot back. "Heath! You're home?"

"Yes, sir," Heath said. "Help me get Nick out of the carriage. He's hurt."

Tom stepped outside and hung the lamp on a hook by the door. He moved briskly down the steps and met him at the open carriage door. When Nick tried to maneuver carefully into a position to climb down, Tom saw the blood stains on his shirt and trousers. "My God! What happened?"

"A goon from the railroad," Nick told him. "Tried to carve a name for himself."

"Knifed him in the street," Heath said and then he stepped forward and grasped Nick when he nearly tumbled out of the carriage. "Easy, Nick."

Tom took Nick's other arm. Together, they guided him up to the porch. "Did you see the doctor?"

"Yes," Nick said. "He stitched me up and sent me home. Seemed to think Stockton was too dangerous for us to stay the night."

"Who did it?" Tom demanded.

Just then, Mother appeared in the doorway. "Nick!" her eyes widened at the sight of the blood on his shirt. "Oh my God." She stepped aside as the men entered the house. "Heath! How did this happen?"

"Mother," said Tom, "I'm certain the boys will give us their story, but first, Let's get Nick to his room."

"I've been thinking about that bed on the entire ride home," Nick admitted.

"Then let's get you into it."

The three men stepped slowly up the stairs letting Nick provide the pace as Mother went up ahead of them to open his old room.

* * *

The long, dreadful night had left Heath shaken and cold. Nick was settled into his bed, with Mother tenderly taking on the role of healer and comforter. Father took on his role too, one of planner and strategist pulling details from Nick about the incident before allowing him to sleep, leaving Heath temporarily on his own.

In the billiard room, he poured himself a glass of whiskey from the liquor cabinet and dragged a chair in front of the fireplace-in an attempt to warm himself inside and out. The fire crackled and the heat soothed his sore, taut muscles, and the whiskey, another comforting fire, warmed his belly. He rested his weary gaze on the flickering firelight and tried to rest in these few quiet moments.

He tapped a cadence against the carved wood of the armrest, his mind working over the night's events. Something in him had snapped when he saw Nick desperately clenching his attacker and the bloody knife clattering to the boardwalk. "Get him, Heath!" Nick had pleaded, but what moved Heath was the fear of death in his brother's eyes. He retained no memory of catching up to the attacker, of throwing him into the street, and of nearly beating the life out of him. His last clear memory of the incident was of the hands latching onto his back, as two deputies seized him and wrestled him off the beaten man. His own hands were covered in blood.

He fractured two fingers, which were now splinted together in an attempt to keep them straight as they healed. He let out a ragged breath and took a long swallow of the whiskey, wanting the liquor to numb his soul into feeling nothing.

A footstep behind him had him jolting upright. He turned and saw his father.

Tom laid a hand on Heath's shoulder. "Rest, son," he said. "We'll have time to sort this through." He moved to the fireplace and sat on the hearth next to Heath's stocking feet. He folded his arms across his knees and looked up at his son. "Nick is sleeping now. It's a deep wound. We're lucky it didn't kill him."

"Bad blood in that town. I felt it the moment I stepped off the train," Heath said. "I shoulda realized trouble would find us after that run-in with Henry Planchett. He always hated me. I guess I didn't think he'd ever go after Nick."

"Do you think he had something to do with it?"

Heath shrugged a shoulder and tapped the glass against the armrest again. "He goaded Nick not more than an hour earlier. Tried to get him into a fight, but . . . I suppose I don't know for sure who hired the man who attacked him. Neither of us had ever seen him before." Heath let out a wry chuckle. "Boy howdy. I expected an eventful homecoming, but I never could have imagined this one."

"I didn't even know you were coming home," Tom said. "I thought you hated me so much that nothing would ever bring you back. I see that's changed."

Heath toyed with the glass, and noticing the small amount of whiskey that churned at the bottom, he downed the rest. He looked into his father's eyes. "Sometimes life makes other plans. Do you want me to go?"

A terrible, pained expression crossed Tom Barkley's face and not for the first time, Heath felt shame for being the cause of his father's anguish.

"My God, Heath," he replied in a gruff, hurt voice. "We had our problems, but I never wanted you to leave. I begged you to stay, to work things out."

"I had to go."

"Until Bentell's letter, we didn't know whether you were alive or dead."

"What did it matter? I was out of your house. You had everything you needed to make your life cozy again."

"This family was never the same after you left. Surely you must know that." With a sigh of regret, Tom stood. "I don't want to argue tonight. You're home now Heath. Stay a while. Let us be your family again."

Heath gave his father the nod he was looking for and with another pat on his son's shoulder, Tom left the room. Alone again, Heath released a faltering breath. He had always found himself on the outskirts of Tom's family, even when he lived here. The way Heath saw it, his return could only cause them grief. He would leave as soon as he could ride again. As to where he would go, he had no idea, but any place was better than under Tom Barkley's shadow.


	4. Chapter 4

Audra carried Nick's breakfast tray gracefully up the curve of the staircase. She had prepared this breakfast herself since most of the household servants were still focused on the task of Father's birthday celebration. The celebration might not go forward now that Father worried about the attack on Nick. She could do without the party; it was her brother laid up in that bed. She understood what that meant. That rather bold and despicable attempt on her brother's life was made to move her father into selling that parcel of land to the railroad. Well those thugs didn't know what great men the Barkley's were. Father would never sell. _Not_ _now_.

She reached the top of the staircase and went to Nick's door. She pushed it open with her toe and entered. "I have breakfast," she said.

Nick put down the newspaper she brought up earlier. "Smells great."

"It should, I made it."

Nick smiled and folded the newspaper. "Did you?"

"Yes. Everyone enjoyed it. Even Gene complimented my croissants this morning. Roberto didn't lift a finger to help me this time." Audra was indeed proud of her cooking. The chef her mother hired a year ago had taken Audra under his wing and began to instruct her in the ways of the European chefs to great success.

"He says I could be a sous-chef, and you know, I might consider it."

"I'm sure Father will be thrilled," Nick remarked. "Isn't that a man's job?"

"Women cook all their lives and the men get the top cooking jobs. Now tell me if that's fair."

Nick smiled at her. "It definitely isn't," he said. "Have you seen Heath yet?"

"No. I wanted to, but Mother told me not to wake him."

"But it's just fine to wake me," he replied.

"Come on Nick." She set the tray over his lap. "You're healing. You need the nutrients."

Nick grimaced as he pushed back against his pillows into a more upright position to eat.

Audra adjusted pillows behind his back. "Is that better?"

"Perfect, thanks." He picked up a fork and knife and decided that he was actually famished. He cut into the bacon.

Audra stood at his side and brushed a hand over back of his head in a loving gesture. He glanced up at her.

"If that man had killed you," she said, "I would be in that jail right now."

"Would you?" Nick asked.

She dropped her hand and balled it into a fist at her side. "Of course I would. I would finish the job Heath started."

Nick frowned. "Don't you go getting yourself mixed up in this. It's men's business," He told her. "You've got enough to worry about."

Indignant at the distinction the men in her family put between what was men's and what was women's concerns, she asked. "What could be more important to me than my family?"

"Making yourself pretty for the party tonight. Won't take much." He winked at her.

"Oh," she responded, a little disappointed at being trivialized by her favorite brother. She had assumed they were of equal mind on the matter. "Father was talking at breakfast about cancelling the whole thing."

"What?" Nick said in alarm. "He can't!"

She shrugged. "He's set his mind to it. Says that the stakes have gotten higher, and he doesn't want to risk another incident like the one last night. It scared him. It scared all of us."

Nick was insistent. "There's much more to this party tonight than he realizes. It's the talk of the town. If we let it go, if we halt our plans for this barbecue then the railroad has already won. He has to go on as if everything is fine. Go get him. I need to talk to him."

"He's out with McColl. When he comes back, I'll let him know you want to see him."

"Thanks, Audra."

"Do you need anything else?" she asked.

Nick glanced at his plate. "Orange juice."

"I'll bring it up."

She left him to his breakfast. She would bring the orange juice, but it didn't have to happen right away. She wanted to see Heath. Last she saw of him was through a haze of tears at the train depot two years ago. She had followed him to the station with the rest of her family and had watched the train carry him away to some unknown destination and some unquantifiable future. Heath took a part of her with him that day, though she doubted he even knew.

He was back. A welcome surprise she became privy to at breakfast. It took all the restraint she possessed not to cry out in delight. She had slept so heavily last night that she had not heard her brothers come home. She had not known about the terrible incident with Nick, nor that her missing half-brother had returned. She had slept through it all. She was determined to make up for that this morning by making sure that Heath was welcomed home properly.

She went to his room and knocked very lightly so that she could say she knocked before entering and then she nudged open the door.

There he was wrapped in the comforter, but the only part she could see of him was his foot sticking out over the edge of the bed.

She crept in, knowing that no one in the family would approve. "Let him sleep," Mother had said. He came home at one o'clock, it was now 9 AM. How much more sleep could he possibly need?

The room was a little chilly which was probably why he was so bundled up in the covers. He looked like a great big lump beneath them. She edged toward the bed so as not to startle him.

At the head of the bed, a tuft of sun-streaked golden hair stuck out from the folds of the maroon colored blanket. It was longer than she remembered and wavy. She peeled back the bedclothes just enough to see his face.

Heath opened one bleary blue eye. "What?"

"It's true then!" she said, grinning at him. "You do have a mustache."

His brows furrowed and he groaned. Yanking the cover back over his head, he rolled away from her, cocooning himself deeper into the blankets.

"I'm so glad you're home, Heath." She poked his back with her fingers. "Get up!"

He drew the blanket down below his chin so he could see her. "Audra, you don't want me to get up."

"Why not?"

"I ain't rightly dressed! Wouldn't do to have you seein' me in my drawers would it?" he complained. "I ought to have privacy in my own bedroom."

"Well sure," she told him. "I'll leave in a second. I just have to get something."

He lifted his head and watched her move about his room opening and closing cabinets and drawers. "Now where did I put them?"

"What are you doing?"

"Getting a pair of stockings." She said matter-of-factly. "I've been using your room for extra storage." She shrugged. "You were gone. I needed the space. Ah!" She waved a pair of stockings in the air. "Found them!"

"Good, now get out!"

Audra giggled. "My, you're a nasty old grump in the morning! " She leaned over him like the nuisance she knew she was and tousled his hair. "Welcome home dear brother!" She said and planted a firm kiss on his temple.

Yes, he was real, and he was back. She tucked the blanket back over his head. "Go ahead. Sleep the day away!"

Audra breezed out of his room and shut the door behind her. Her kiss lingered warmly on his temple. If her intent was to make him feel welcome, she succeeded. The girl had a gift. How he had missed his little sister.

He sat up and scratched his head. Wrapping the covers around his waist, in case she was still in the vicinity, Heath dropped his feet to the floor.

He shuffled across the cold wooden slats and locked his door. He yawned and let go of the blanket, tossing the covers haphazardly to the bed.

He moved to the dresser and searched through. What little clothing it contained belonged to him. He did not find a single item, not even a stocking that belonged to his sister. He shook his head and smiled.

Finding a shirt and pants, he glanced into the oval mirror in front of him. The five inch scar where the bullet had ripped through was still a jagged, mottled purple. He rubbed at his shoulder in a vain attempt to lessen its presence. Taking in his too long hair, the unshaven jaw, and his fractured fingers, he cut a rough appearance. He hardly looked the part of a refined Barkley son.

He turned from the mirror and slipped into the light blue shirt. Forgoing the usual inspection of his marred leg, he stepped into his pants and slid them over the damage as he was quite certain that awful scar carved into his thigh had not improved in appearance either.

Hearing a carriage approach the house, he went to the window and looked out. Guests arriving. Someone stepped into view from the porch and he saw that it was Jarrod dressed in an overcoat as if he too had just arrived.

He opened the door and he helped a dark haired young woman climb down. Sobbing, the girl slid into Jarrod's embrace.

"Anabelle," he said.


	5. Chapter 5

_Moments before Heath looked out his bedroom window and witnessed Annabelle's emotional arrival, a young couple returned to the ranch with the hopes of finding some much needed rest and relaxation far away from their busy lives in San Francisco. . . ._

The carriage ride to the house was long and rather warm. When Jarrod helped his wife step down from the coach, Beth released an uneasy breath. She dabbed a lacy handkerchief at the base of her throat.

Jarrod was concerned. "Are you alright, my love? The carriage ride was a bit bumpy at the end. I'm sorry."

She smiled at his concern. "I'm fine. I just need to sit down with a refreshing cup of tea."

"You'll have it as soon as we settle in." He dipped his head and kissed her softly on the lips. Surely they could get some precious time to themselves on this visit to the ranch. The journey had been uncomfortable for Beth, but they both had so badly wanted to get away. He held her gloved hands in his, rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs. "Perhaps we should have stayed in San Francisco, hmm? All of this traveling might not be good for the baby."

"Oh, Jarrod, you worry so," she said, squeezing his hands gently in return. "I'm fine. Really. Mother told me she had morning sickness for six months when she carried me. I doubt mine will last that long."

He blinked and straightened, even the thought of his petite, yet overbearing mother-in-law dampened the intimacy of the moment. "Hmm. Your mother. She didn't seem so happy with us leaving her behind." The woman had lived with them since her second husband passed away six months ago, which made Jarrod's hours of working late in his law office more tolerable. "You think she'll ever forgive us?"

"As I told her. She can't expect us to take her everywhere we go. She will be fine at my brother's house. After all, he should take on his share of the responsibility of keeping her entertained."

"Agreed." Jarrod smiled imagining the hoops she would have her brother and his young family jumping through just to keep her satisfied. "I wish him great success." He took her arm as they stepped up to the porch of the grand Barkley house.

Hearing the arrival of another carriage, Jarrod paused on the steps and looked. "They're in an awful hurry."

"It looks like Annabelle."

"And her father. They're early." He frowned when he saw that the girl appeared to be distraught. "I wonder what's wrong." He went back down to the drive and waved.

The carriage came to a stop and Annabelle immediately began to climb down.

"Anna, wait," Mr. James said.

"No, I can't, Papa!" She turned to rush up the steps but found Jarrod in her path and collapsed into his arms. Her blue eyes met his and she broke into tears. "Oh Jarrod! Tell me he's alright!"

"Annabelle," he said. "Who are you talking about? Nick?"

Mr. James joined them and with a sorrowful, apologetic look, he said, "I'm sorry Jarrod. We heard Nick was stabbed last night in Stockton. You know how rumors can get. We wanted to see your family, to find out the truth."

"They told us-" Annabelle began, "they told us that he was killed!"

"Oh Jarrod," Beth said. "No."

Jarrod felt the blood drain from his face and his words came out in a whisper. "He can't be dead."

Mr. James looked from Jarrod to Beth and saw that they too had only just arrived. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Jarrod. We assumed you knew what happened."

Someone in the house knew exactly what had happened with Nick. Anger welled inside Jarrod-anger at Nick for getting himself into yet another fix. Curse his hot-tempered brother. "He's not dead!" he said firmly as if to make it so. "We'll get to the bottom of this." He turned, strode briskly to the front door, and entered the house.

Whenever Nick had a strong disagreement with a fellow in town or even on the ranch, his first impulse was to fight now and ask questions when his opponent came to. Jarrod was used to hearing terrible rumors about Nick, but nowadays he was reserved in his response to hearing them. Facts always followed rumors, and in every case, the facts delivered a lesser emotional impact. He knew this to be true, but even so this startling revelation was a punch in the gut.

"Mother! Father!" He tossed his hat to an awaiting table. "Mother-!" He found Audra descending the staircase and noted that she did not appear at all distressed.

"Jarrod! I'm so glad to see you-" his sister began.

Jarrod put up a hand. "Nick?"

"He's upstairs. It's just awful! Nick was in town last night minding his own business when some terrible thug hired by the railroad stabbed him and-" She heard Annabelle's sobs as the girl entered the house accompanied by her father. "Oh dear! Annabelle!"

She rushed to comfort the girl.

"Minding his own business, huh?" Jarrod muttered. He moved past everyone and started up the stairs taking them two at a time. He burst into Nick's room and saw him sitting up in bed nonchalantly biting into a fat, buttered croissant.

Jarrod propped his hands on his hips. "I heard you were dead!" he accused.

Nick stopped mid-chew and replied. "I might be dead if Heath hadn't been there. Fellow stabbed me clean through-"

"Heath?"

"Yes, Heath. He came home last night. I hope he's still here. Oh you should have seen him, brother. He was a wildcat. Took two deputies to pull him off the guy."

This morning was full of surprises. Jarrod half turned to leave in his haste to find Heath. He stopped and looked pointedly at Nick. "Are you alright?"

"I've been better."

"So have I." Satisfied that his brother was in no immediate danger, Jarrod said, "We'll talk later. Annabelle is here. She's coming up to see you."

"Oh." Nick smiled and straightened his covers. "Will you take this tray, Jarrod?"

Jarrod rolled his eyes and complied. Just as he lifted the tray, Annabelle rushed in and showered Nick with tearful kisses.

"I'll leave you two alone," Jarrod remarked, knowing neither of them heard him.

A smiling, yet tearful Audra met him at the door. She took the tray. "I'm so happy Nick has Annabelle."

"Me too," Jarrod turned his sister toward the door. "Let's go."

They stepped into the hallway leaving his door partly closed to give them a bit of privacy.

"Mother's downstairs with Mr. James," Audra said, "Beth is with them. Emerson is making them tea."

"Good. Where's Heath?"

Audra looked down the hall and brightened like a sunbeam. "He's right there. Isn't it wonderful that he's home?"

"Yes it is."

"I'll be downstairs. This is such an exciting day already!" She paused. "I almost forgot!" She balanced the tray in her right hand and stood on tiptoe to kiss her brother on the cheek. "Welcome home, Pappy."

He kissed her forehead. "It's good to be home, Audra."

She walked ahead of him passing Heath on her way to the stairs. "It's about time you got up! You're missing everything!"

Heath's mouth kicked up in a smile. "We can't let that happen, can we?" He shook his head as she swept down the stairs.

He glanced at Jarrod. "Like a dog with two tails, that one. She always sees the bright side."

"She makes her own happiness," Jarrod replied. "It's good to see you, Heath." He held out his hand, but Heath lifted his, revealing the bandaged fingers. Jarrod dropped his hand on his shoulder instead. "Nick tells me you caught the man who attacked him."

"I did. He's in jail. Though I beat him pretty bad. They mighta moved him to the hospital for all I know. The sheriff's coming by later to get our statements. Guess we'll find out more when he gets here."

"Do you know who it was?"

"No, but the message was clear enough. They want Father to sell that parcel of land to the railroad."

"At least now we know what his answer will be."

"Yeah. Stubborn old mule."

Jarrod was taken aback. "You think he should sell?"

"It's not my business," said Heath. "I just came home at the wrong time."

"Now that's where you're wrong, Heath. You came home at the best possible time. These are large stakes. We're up against men who will do anything to get what they want. The family needs you here, to stand with us." He didn't want to hurt his brother, but truth no matter how painful must be told. "As we stood by you all those years."

"It was a hell of a lot easier for you, Jarrod. You didn't live here under his roof."

"You came back."

"Never thought it would happen-" Heath broke off and shook his head, apparently done with the conversation.

Heath moved past his brother and descended the staircase. Jarrod noticed the stiffness in his gait and the way his hand gripped the railing. Anyone could see he still needed to physically recover from his ordeal at Tule Lake. With so much happening around them, Jarrod worried for his brother's emotional healing. Did Heath come home at the wrong time?

"_For this thy brother was dead, and is alive again_ ," Jarrod murmured.

Then, despite the hard feelings that still overshadowed them, a light of hope ignited within him. Heath was back. That was in itself a miracle. He let out a laugh and shouted for all to hear. "Welcome home, brother Heath!"


	6. Chapter 6

Nick knew he would only have a few moments alone with his girl, and while he enjoyed the passionate kissing between the murmured assurances that everything would be alright, he was keenly aware of the mission he had planned for today. No way, no how would anyone, not even a railroad thug wielding a knife stop him from proposing marriage to Annabelle. He sensed the rest of the day would be chaotic with questions and strategic planning and-if all went as scheduled-father's party. This might be the most opportune moment to pop the question.

"Annabelle," he murmured between the soft encounters with her wonderful mouth. "We need to talk."

She sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at him through moist eyes. She had stopped crying, but the residual effects of her anguish remained. Her eyes were puffy and her breath hitched, but she managed a smile. "About what?" She said, though she had an idea of the topic. They had discussed it before, only now he had the ring. Now he could make it official.

With a nod of his head, he indicated the bedside table. "I can't reach the drawer. Open it, will you? There's something inside it just for you."

She pulled the drawer and inside it, found a small black box tied with a golden ribbon. "Oh, Nick." She clasped it in her hands and held it close to her heart.

"It's for both of us really," He said, as she placed the box in his open palm.

He tried to sit up more, but was caught short by the pain in his side. He grimaced. "I wanted this moment to be perfect. Unfortunately, even the best laid plans are only plans."

"You're alive, and you're recovering. I count my blessings when I can get them." She leaned closer and kissed him long and slow. She broke off the kiss just as Nick wanted it to keep going. She touched the box with the tips of her fingers. "I want this to be from your heart Nick. I don't want you to feel as if it's an obligation."

"Obligation?"

"That you have to marry me because of one rainy afternoon?"

The hope, fear, regret he now saw in her had become a barrier between them ever since the day a few weeks ago when they waited out the rain in that little hunting cabin by the creek.

"That wasn't just any rainy afternoon," he said. "We both know that. It was something special-the best day of my life. Getting caught in the rain . . . the horses kicking up all that mud . . . you didn't mind it at all. And when we finally made it to that little cabin and I saw you as happy as you were laughing and smiling, your hair all tumbled down. I thought to myself, this is the girl I want to come home to . . . for the rest of my life. That was the moment I fell in love with you."

"It was a glorious day, wasn't it?" she ventured to whisper. "I've been so afraid that you couldn't marry me after I gave myself to you so fully. I worried that I'd somehow ruined everything, and I hoped you would still love me." She kissed him again. "Because . . . how could it have been wrong, when everything about it felt so right?"

Nick lost himself in the kiss. He cupped the back of her neck to deepen the kiss and knew if he didn't get that ring on her finger and soon, they would be making that same wonderful mistake all over again.

She sat up, her eyes dreamy. Sighing lightly, she turned to see if anyone may have seen them through the crack in the door. She patted her hair to keep it in place. Wispy tendrils of curls had fallen across the creamy skin at the base of her neck. He longed to take down her hair again and hold her soft, warm body next to his.

Nick took her hand and slid the ring onto her delicate finger. Loving the smile that brightened her face when she turned to him again, he said it. "Marry me Annabelle."

* * *

Heath avoided the group of guests that had gathered in the parlor. Mother had caught his eye when he reached the bottom of the stairs and indicated for him to join them, but he just gave her a small apologetic wave and headed out the front door. He'd spent much of the last three months alone in a bedroom on the Bentell's quiet country estate. Already, the Barkley ranch was becoming too crowded for him.

He stepped down from the porch and into the soft dappled sunshine that filtered through the grand oak trees. This place would be crowded with folks before long; his father's celebration, marred by the events of last night. Heath wondered how everything would go.

He reached into his pocket for the cigarette tin, opened it and found that he only had two left. Soon, he would have to bum cigars off of one of those wealthy brothers of his.

It was ironic that he preferred a good smoke to this clean country air, but as he lit it and took the first drag, his nerves began to settle. As populated as the ranch was becoming, he might as well have stayed in Stockton so he could have a better chance at being alone. He took in the green rolling hills, the scent of dew in the grass and hay in the stables. What he wouldn't give to take a horse and just ride. Didn't matter where to. To ride would be liberating in itself.

He walked around the stables and saw a familiar sight. A feisty paint had come to the window, probably to get his fill of the same scenery. "Bell," Heath said with a smile.

The horse turned his head in Heath's direction for a moment, and then shook it with a snort.

Heath laughed. "You rascal. How've you been?" He patted Bell's nose and then scrubbed his ears. "Good fella. Missed me, huh? I bet."

"Hiya Heath!" said Gene from inside. He just closed Bell's stall. "I've been taking care of him for ya! Wait there, I'll be right out."

Heath gave Bell a once over. His eyes were clear. His coat was shiny. Picture of health. "Gene has been doing a fine job, yessir. A real fine job."

Gene jogged around the corner. Big grin. "Hey brother!" he shouted. Not bothering to shake Heath's hand, he hugged him, slapping him on the back as he did so. "I can't believe you're home!" he said as he released him. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Well, I'm back."

"Just in time too." Gene became serious. "Boy, I tell you, men are fighting mad around here. This thing with Nick, it wasn't the first incident with those railroad men."

"No?" Heath's interest was piqued.

"Property damage. Fences torn down . . . cattle set loose and stolen . . . It's intimidation is what it is. They've no right."

"No, but men will do what they can get away with, or what will bring the most profit."

"Well, justice is going to prevail in this valley. I think they got a little taste of it last night when you laid into that fellow who attacked Nick." Gene noted Heath's bandaged hand. "They need to know we'll fight for what's right."

"Don't you go gettin' yourself mixed up in a battle with grown men . . ."

Indignant, Gene straightened and jutted his chin. "I'm a man."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Stay out of the fight."

Gene shoved his hands into his pockets. "You sound just like Father."

Heath chuckled at that ironic note and took another drag from his cigarette. To change the subject, he turned and appraised Bell's condition. "You've done a fine job with Bell, here. He looks as young and healthy as when I left."

"I've been riding him. Keeping him in shape for ya. I even ride him to the academy during the week. Bell is a fine horse."

"Y'know, Gene, I often wondered about him while I was gone. You miss a good horse. You miss a lot of things." He tossed the spent cigarette to the ground and mashed it with the toe of his boot. He wanted to add that he missed the family, he really did, and it would be the right thing to say. It was just that he'd left them. He had joined the army and dropped everything, even his name, to be out of their lives for good. He still couldn't fathom why he had done it, or how he had done it so easily.

Gene sensed his trouble. "I wasn't good to you Heath, before you left. It took me a while, you know, to come around and I'm sorry for that."

"No need to be sorry. What was, was. No way we can go back and right things we've already done. We just have to live with our mistakes and learn from them. I guess that's what life is about." Heath stroked Bell's neck once more. "Y'know, you keep Bell. He's yours now."

"No I couldn't. I was just keeping him up for you."

Heath shook his head. "I can't ride anymore. Indian tore up my leg so bad, I got no strength left in it for riding in the saddle. It's best he stay with you."

"Oh." Gene looked down. "I'm sorry. I haven't asked you how you're doing. It was awful, what happened. I wanted to come see you, but . . ."

"I didn't give you the chance," Heath put in. He clamped his jaw, not wanting to even think of what a fool he'd been.

Undeterred, Gene looked up again with a hopeful expression. "We can make up for lost time now. Are you planning on staying, Heath? I mean, since you're not going back to the army, you've got no reason to go anywhere, have you?"

"I'll be home for a little while. Got to, until I can find work I'm fit to do."

"I'm sure there's work here you can do. At least consider it will you?"

"Heath!" Tom called.

The brothers turned and looked. Tom and Sheriff Madden rode toward them together.

Gene watched the men wearily. "I'm sure the sheriff is just here to talk to ya Heath. Father won't let it go any further than that."

"You have a lot of faith in him."

"I do," Gene's brows furrowed. "You should too."

Heath glanced at Gene, who at his young age still idolized his father. He forced a smile. "I do, Gene."

Gene studied Heath's face as if to judge his sincerity. "Well, I guess that takes time too."

Heath watched the men on horseback as they approached, sure that it was hard news they brought. Faith was for the comfort of boys. There was no room for comfort in the world of men.


	7. Chapter 7

Audra loved Annabelle and already thought of her as a sister. Nick had not said anything directly to Audra about the intended marriage proposal, but he was so transparent about his feelings that he could never keep something like this hidden from anyone for very long. She wanted the two of them to have a little time alone upstairs, betting the girl's reputation that Nick was proposing to her this very moment. He'd better make it fast. She and her mother had kept Mr. James occupied with tea, biscuits and conversation, but soon, he would look for his daughter to join them.

Catching a cue from Mother, a slight clearing of the throat and a meaningful glance, Audra understood that it was time to retrieve Annabelle from Nick's room. She'd been with him alone long enough. There was only so much a girl's reputation could take, especially with her father having tea in their parlor.

"Excuse me," Audra said as she set down her teacup and rose from her seat.

Mr. James nodded and smiled at her. From the confident look in his eyes, it seemed he too was expecting a certain bit of news in a few minutes.

Audra let out a breath, suddenly uneasy. _ Nick, you'd better not back out,_ she thought as she went to the staircase._ Now that you have the girl's father here to answer to._

She knocked lightly before entering so as to prepare them for visitors and peeked in. "Annabelle? Mother and I would like you to join us for tea-"

She stopped. Her heart paused mid-beat when she saw her brother's face. His smile radiated, and his eyes glistened with happy unshed tears. "She said yes!" He shouted and then gingerly clutched his side. "Aw!"

"Oh, Nick!" Annabelle laughed. "Be careful!" She adjusted his covers and gave him a gentle kiss. "You need to rest now."

"I'm so happy for the both of you," cried Audra.

Annabelle displayed the fingers on her left hand as she showed Audra the ring. "I'm the happiest—oh, and the luckiest girl in the valley."

"In the world," Audra corrected. The girls embraced. "We're going to be sisters now. Oh! We have a wedding to plan!" How she loved planning big celebrations. A wedding! Jarrod and Beth had eloped, robbing her of any attempt at designing his wedding ceremony and reception, but Nick was giving her a chance to shine. She marched over to Nick and kissed him. "Thank you, Nick!"

"You're welcome?" he replied with a grin.

"Annabelle and I have much to do," Audra said. "First we need to go downstairs and spread this wonderful news!"

Annabelle sent him a loving smile and hand-in-hand, the girls left the room.

"Two of my favorite girls," he said contentedly. He propped his hands behind his head, though that wasn't as comfortable a position as it once had been. It stretched his side and he felt every stitch that held his wound together. He brought his hands down and rested his palm gently over the bandaged sutures.

The time with Annabelle had been what he needed, but the build up to the proposal created a certain amount of tension that now let go of him. Now that this milestone had passed and his future was in his grasp, he began to notice the throbbing pain that had been growing steadily worse since he awoke this morning. Soon, he would need more of the medication the doctor prescribed or else he would not be able to rest. He pulled the soft covers up around him. He closed his eyes and tried to remember every moment of the rainy afternoon with Annabelle, the softness of her skin, the thrill of that stolen, forbidden moment . . . but that beautiful memory burst into pieces as the knife punched into him again-that violation compounded by a hotly uttered threat . . ._ a message for your father . . ._

His eyes popped open and he sat up again, clutching at the burning sensation in his side. Bedridden for at least a week! His reputation as a fighter was well-known. Hell, his reputation had even stretched into towns where he'd never set foot. In one swift move on the streets of Stockton, they'd taken Nick Barkley out of the fight. Only now did it come clear to him. This wasn't a chance encounter with a street thug. He had been targeted.

Now he sat alone in his bed unable to do anything but wait as the Barkleys' enemies planned their next move.

* * *

Outside by the stables, Tom and Fred Madden tied off their horses. "Ciego!" Tom shouted.

"Si?" Ciego greeted them as he came out of the stables.

"See to the Sheriff's horse, will you?"

"Of course, Señor. Good to see you Heath! It's a good day at the ranch, yes?"

Heath nodded. "Sure is, Ciego."

"Gene," said Tom. "I'm sure you have some chores left to do."

Gene's face fell. "Yes, sir. I was just talking to Heath." He clapped Heath on the shoulder. "See you around, huh?"

"Yeah," Heath said. "We'll catch up later."

Gene reluctantly left to go back into the stables. Once the boy was out of earshot, Heath turned to the men and propped his hands on his hips, surprising even himself as unadulterated anger bit off his words and snapped them in two. "Did he live, or did I kill the son-of-a-bitch?"

A grim smile appeared on Tom's face, showing he was one with Heath on that sentiment. "The man needed killing."

Madden shot Tom a sharp glance but his face was a steady mask. "He's still breathing. He was moved to the hospital last night. The doctor's there have said he has a good chance at pulling through."

"Do you know who he is?" Heath asked. "Or better yet, who hired him?"

"That is a mystery at this point since he's not talking and no one has stepped forward to claim him." Madden took in a breath. "I think it would be best if we hashed this out with Nick, too. Tom, you say he's well enough to talk to me about this incident?"

Tom nodded. "He was awake earlier and wanted to get out of that bed. So yeah, he's up for it."

"Good. Shouldn't take long."

The three men headed for the house.

* * *

"Nick and I are going to be married," Annabelle told the small group that had assembled in the parlor.

"Annabelle, that's wonderful news," Mr. James said as he stood and hugged his daughter. She showed him the ring as if to verify the impending union.

Victoria was a little surprised at the sense of relief on his features. But then perhaps he had been overly concerned about the outcome today would bring. They had arrived believing Nick was dead and now, emotions had swung like a pendulum at a proposal of marriage.

"Congratulations, Annabelle," Victoria said, giving the girl a gentle hug. "Welcome to our family."

"Isn't this wonderful?" Audra cried. "I have two sisters now!" Audra hugged Annabelle and then Beth.

As Beth and Jarrod congratulated Annabelle and officially welcomed her and her father into the fold, Victoria excused herself to the kitchen to make certain the preparations for the barbecue continued. At breakfast, Tom had blustered about canceling everything, so angry he was about the attack on Nick. Chaos swirled around them, but still Victoria was quite pleased with several aspects of this day.

Everything they had planned had so far gone off course, but that was usually the way of things in their family. The birthday celebration which had been Jarrod and Nick's idea was supposed to have been a surprise for her husband, but they had to tell him about it when he began making plans to be out of town on this day. Too, she had known about Nick's plans to propose to Annabelle. Not able to keep this news to himself, he had shown her the ring the day he bought it, and she had given her blessing. Annabelle was a sweet girl with a free and tumultuous spirit very much like Nick's. Though quite young-seventeen-she was still a good match for Victoria's middle son who had recently turned twenty-four. She prayed they both were tame enough and willing enough to settle down.

Heath's return had been a surprise. It was probably the only secret Nick had been able to keep. Heath coming into their lives had always been a mixed blessing. No doubt she loved him completely. Her heart had broken when he left, but she understood why he had gone.

After he was adopted into the family, Heath found the boundaries placed on him by his father too much to bear and had struggled continually against them. The more he struggled, the more Tom clamped down. She watched it happen, how Tom's tightening grip on his son tore them apart.

Heath's departure had taken away that struggle. The fighting, the arguments, all drifted away like a slowly ebbing tide, but that did not mean the family was stronger. His being a part of their family had strengthened them in ways that could never have happened without him. Heath was unaware of the good he had done for them. She hoped now that he had come home, they could somehow prove to him his value as a member of their family.

She entered the kitchen lost in those thoughts when Roberto approached her.

"Shall I wait to prepare the ribs, ma'am?" he inquired. "Are we moving along to the barbecue as planned?"

"You continue on with the preparations, Roberto," Victoria said. "The festivities shall continue. Nick has just gotten engaged. I'm not going to halt everything now-" She turned when Tom, accompanied by Fred Madden, entered the front door. A sense of relief came over her when Heath followed them in. He bent to take off his boots at the door. Victoria's heart warmed at the sight. That was a sign, as sure as any that Heath would stay. She turned to Roberto with a warm smile. "And, my lost son has returned." Her voice broke, and she bit her bottom lip.

"Yes ma'am. It is indeed a day to celebrate."


End file.
